New Girl
by Blahsblah2001
Summary: I got moved in today. House 777. That's the number for heaven, isn't it? Must be a good omen.COMPLETED


Stupid, kind of frightening story... I like this one, so don't flame, please. Or if you really hate it, flames are OK. I just really need reveiws to keep my blood sugar level up. I don't own JTHM. I don't own anything, really. Jhonen(AKA lord of all that is good) Owns Johnny. I own Sharon, as much as any of us can, like, own anything. But it's all really shared, ya no?

././..Hi! New journal! I just got you a few minutes ago. So I'm gonna tell you a little about myself. My name's Sharon, I studied art at the local college, I've just graduated, and I'm moving tomarrow! I can't wait to get out of this house, and live without my parents. It's really lame.

././..I got moved in today. The house is just a little one, but I guess right out of college I can't exactly expect a mansion, now can I? The walls need painting, though. And I have to put in some windows. It's going to get very cold come winter. Those boards aren't going to keep much heat in.  
P.S. I found some comics under the bed. Happy Noodle Boy. That's kinda weird…

././..I went next door today. Meet the neighbors, you know. A little kid opened the door. He looked absolutely horrified, for some reason. I told him hi, I just moved in next door. He got this look of pure joy on his face, and asked if the Scary Neighbor Man was gone. I told him I guess so. He actually hugged me. Then his dad, I guess, told him to close the door and go back upstairs. The doorbell doesn't work. I have to fix that.

././..I found something kinda scary today. I was cleaning out the garage, There wasn't much in there. (The grass doesn't grow, for some reason.) I found a puddle of a dark brown liquid. It was dry, but it still really looked like blood. It makes me wonder what actually happened to the last person who lived here. I'll have to look it up next time I'm at the library.  
The pipes are messing up. I keep hearing them, it sounds like whispering.

././..I went to the library today. Apperently the last guy's name was Johnny. Johnny C. The library didn't actually have anything on him, but the librarian, (one of those ladies who knows exactly who's screwing who, and who got plastic surgery last year, ect, ect, ect…) knew a lot about him. She said he was a loner, never had anyone over. She said he committed suicide.  
She didn't know where, though. I really think it was the garage, but that doesn't seem very likely.  
The pipes are getting worse.

././..I found a knife today. Right in the middle of the living room floor. It was covered in rust-colored blood. I think maybe someone's playing a trick on me. It freaked me out. I went around the whole house looking for someone. The house is two rooms and a garage. Where could someone be hiding?  
There's really thin spidery black lines coming through the paint. I painted the walls all a yellow color. Now, right in front of the front door, there's a rectangle of black coming through. The pipes sound like they're talking now. I can almost hear two different voices. But I'm probably imagining it. Too much solitude. The phone's not working. So I havn't called anyone in over a week now. I feel like I'm in a really freaky horror story.

Later: I'm really scared right now. Something scary just happened to me and I want to write it down. I was asleep, in the new bed, I threw the other one out. I was dreaming about a wall, a really white one, and the wall was pushing out at me, but it didn't actually move. I woke up, and I swear there was someone in the room. I saw him. It was dark, but I still saw him. He was about five and a half feet tall, with spiky black hair. And he disappeared. I swear to god, I was looking right at him, and he just faded. And I swear tomarrow I'm calling someone to fix these goddamned pipes. They're driving me insane. Literally.

././..I had someone to look at the pipes and the phone today. They both said nothing was wrong. The phone worked, while they were here. And the pipes made not a sound at all. As soon as they left, the pipes started up again. They were laughing at me. There's definatly two different voices now. I call them Psycho and Fuck.  
The phone worked for a little today. But I didn't call anyone. I don't feel like talking to any of my friends. I think I'm actually starting to forget little things about them, too. I need some social contact. The black lines are getting more pronounced, like cracks. I asked the pipes about them. They just laughed.  
It's scary that I'm going insane and I'm totally fine with it.

././..The phone rang today. I picked it up, and heard a gunshot. Then there was some screaming. I don't even care anymore. I lit some stuff on fire in the backyard today, just because I could. There's a black hole now, about fist size, where the cracks were. I pushed on the wall, more fell into the blackness. I didn't hear it land. And I truly don't care anymore.  
I was in a boutique today, I heard a voice. It came from a plastic flower. I picked it up, it told me to. I walked right out with it, not even realizing I was stealing until right now. The flower is telling me we have to get it's friend tomarrow. At least I know I'm not going crazy.

././..I've got two flowers now. A rose and a daisy. I don't like the rose much. He's too depressive. I named him Fuck.  
There's a door now, where the cracks were. I will walk down it today. See what's down there. Fuck tells me I'll love it.  
I dreamed about that wall again. It was snow white, too white. It needed color, to keep the thing behind it. And it wanted red. Red to keep the monster in. I cut my arm, not sure why. Put the blood on the wall. I woke up and the flowers were laughing.

Later: I went down the hole. There's disturbing things down there. It just keeps going down. There's all sorts of machines, look like they would tear a person apart. There's vents under everything. I don't know where the vents go. Maybe I'll find out tomarrow. It's too late now. I have to sleep. I don't want to, though. I'll dream about the wall again.  
Maybe I'll just go a little deeper before I go to sleep.

Later: I've been up for days, now. I don't need to sleep. I don't know what day it is. A friend called me today. I can't remember her name. A can't remember what number to call her back at. I don't really care. I found the wall. It's got blood on it. The blood is disappearing. I need some more.

?/?/?? I found someone today. I needed the blood. I put him in the basement. There's a convenient bunch of restraints and things. He keeps screaming. So loud, so loud. But he shouldn't have called me a slut. He really shouldn't.

Later: I killed him. It was fun. I found out where the vents go. They pipe the blood down onto the wall. I wonder how they got the blood to run uphill. I don't know. But then again, there's not much that's natural about this house.  
I found a bunch of hunting knives and things. There's racks of them, all over the basements. I carry one with me all the time now.

././..I found out what day it was. It said so on the calender at the gas station. I went there, I have the sudden NEED for cherry brainfreezys and tacos. The world gets dirtier everyday. I go outside, and what I see makes me more inclined to stay in forever. But I can't I need the blood. Something tells me I'm going to have no problem finding a good supply.  
The flowers keep pointing out random people on the street. Mentioning how much blood they have in them. I think they're right.

././..I disconnected the phone today. No one I know ever calls. They keep looking for a girl named Sharon. I don't know who that is. The ringing phone is giving me a headache. I wonder about my friends, I had some before the move… I bet they're full of blood.

././..I haven't written in a while… I'm just looking through this old thing. Back when I was afraid of the flowers. Ha. I was so stupid. They're my friends. Speaking of friends, I'm just reading my last entry, and…They were.


End file.
